The day of the cow....

The altitude here in Ollantaytambo is approximately 11000 feet. This time I am travelling with old buddy of mine, who happens to be in remarkably good shape (marathons. long distance cycling etc) - his favourite activity in these parts...hiking. This means that I am now scaling the sides of mountains, literally. Today, we climbed another 1000 feet up into the clouds along a "trail" (I think it was more of dried up natural irrigation path then and actual trail). There were lots of different cacti and various brightly coloured spiders, plus...stick bugs (very exciting to see such a different insect)! Super Hike the freaking mountain goat bounded up the loose rock with the greatest of ease. Me...I looked like a damn hyperventilating hippo trailing behind. But you know me, I am not about to admit that I cannot do something that one of my friends can - so I trudged along behind...and made it. Once we reached a point where we could go no further and we set down to marvel at our/my accomplishment. As I was basking in some well earned awe of myself I glanced over to see a cow. We are sitting on the side of a steep mountain. This is not a grade you could drive a car up and these cows are just meandering about. Peruvian cows actually scale the sides of mountains to graze.

I shouldn’t be surprised. the cows here are awesome. It’s not just peaks and valleys where you can find them; they wander through the ancient Inca ruins. It is a little odd to be sitting at the temple of the sun god pondering the thoughts of the ancient Inca and then have a big cow come and moo in your ear. There is usually some child, not far behind with a twig used for herding.

Hunger began to set in after our early AM feat and we retreated to the town square for a yummy breakfast of banana pancakes and coffee (it’s funny, the waiter will wait until he has your order, keep in mind the waiter is about 13 y.o., and then run to the market to get the ingredients for your breakfast). Just as I finished my last drop of coffee (which consists of a strong shot of espresso in a cup that you add milk to, sort of like Ollantaytambo’s answer to a Latte) the "milk lady" came by to deliver milk to the restaurant. Why I am I surprised that this consisted of a giant TUPPERWARE container of freshly milked milk I have no idea. I thought back to an earlier conversation Barry and I had discussing how the milk was surprisingly warm. Of course it was, it just came out of the udder! I know this shouldn’t be as disgusting to me as it is but I freely admit that I am a HUGE fan or pasteurization.

Well not a minute later a guy strolls through the square carrying the head of a freshly slaughtered cow. Just slung over his shoulder while flies trail behind him eagerly liking their little fly lips. Deciding that our appetites had been temporarily satisfied/damaged, Barry and I wandered through the local market. Barry excused himself to the sanctity of the fresh air when we got to the “meat department”. Flies buzzed all over a variety of animal parts, the locals that I met were all too excited to show off their goods. I had a chance to see what I imagine could easily be a contender for the world’s largest liver. Then something caught my eye…there it was…the cow’s head that we had seen just a few minutes ago. I eagerly went over to try and determine the fate of this head, for I truly have no idea what purpose the head serves. The language barrier made this task difficult but my enthusiasm was apparently evident as the locals were eager to give me the honour of removing the cow’s brain. I used some sort of special brain scooping tool and plopped it out. It came right out and I stood there proud as punch at my accomplishment while the local Peruvian folks seemed confused as to the expression on my face. I was unsure of the etiquette that should follow such a tribute, so I politely bowed (not sure why but it felt right) and said thank you in a few different languages until I could remember the Spanish salutation and scurried away.

The thing about appetites, they always return. A few hours later I could hear the familiar rumblings of my stomach. Throwing caution into the wind and feeling particularly adventurous I approached a street vendor and, after surveying the goods, opted for “cow on a stick”. What could go wrong? It was cooked over an open fire, granted that fire was in a garbage can, but still it looked well prepared – and it was well seasoned. It was delicious and I didn’t regret eating it at all, until 6 hrs later.

So... in one day - I climbed a mountain with a cow, drank it’s milk, removed it’s brain and then ate it with some delicious spices. Good thing I’m not in India.